Billy was hanging up his coat and hat on hooks in the foyer when he saw Alexa standing in the doorway of the den.
“Hello, Billy Lyons,” Alexa said.
“Well, hello, Alexa Keen,” he said jovially. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Nice to see you, Billy,” she said. “Been a long time.”
“Are you still working for the man?”
“Yes,” she said.
Alexa had never cared much for Billy Lyons, but she was glad to see him now. It wasn’t that he was a show-off. He had developed his eccentricities early on to entertain his contemporaries and to separate himself from the crowd-especially his legal competition later in life. Alexa still held a slight grudge against him because he had once made people laugh by mocking her when she was a fifteen-year-old, mixed-race outcast who’d been shunned by both races in their high school. Billy had been close with Winter until she came along, and he had resented and not understood her friendship with Winter. That, as much as anything, had kept Billy and Alexa from becoming friends. But he was a friend of Winter’s, and she knew he had been a good and loyal one at that, and he was about to help them out in a big way.
Alexa stepped back as Winter led Billy into the den, where Leigh was staring at a picture of her children with a faraway look in her eyes. “Billy Lyons, this is Leigh Gardner,” Winter said.
“Nice to meet you, Leigh. Winter told me about your situation on the telephone,” Billy said, sitting in an armchair. “I’ve got most of it already prepared for your approval.”
Billy Lyons opened his briefcase and took out a laptop. After reading the document aloud, he listened to what Leigh had to say and added her suggestions to the legal document. He hooked up to Leigh’s computer, printed the document and Leigh signed it, as Alexa and Winter acted as witnesses. Using Leigh’s scanner and her Internet connection, he sent copies of the signed document to his office and to a judge pal in Jackson, Mississippi, storing a digital copy in his Yahoo e-mail folder.
“Now all I have to do is pop in at the courthouse on my way out of town and file this to make it official,” he said, slipping the original pages into his inside coat pocket before putting the coat on.
84
After Billy filed the papers at the courthouse, Winter had him drop him off at his Jeep. A white SUV-which Winter assumed was carrying cutouts-tailed him from town out to the Roundtable. Winter figured Tunica County was filled with cutouts.
He parked in the Roundtable’s lot. After putting on a ball cap and shades he walked to the entrance, joining the arriving gamblers. With any luck, he would get inside before he was spotted by security. Winter wanted to get to Kurt Klein before Mulvane or White got between them.
Winter walked onto the gaming floor and, unbelievably, spotted Kurt Klein seated at a three-card poker table next to the security man Winter had seen arriving with the wealthy silver-haired industrialist. While Klein gambled, the security man sat with a glass of water in his left hand.
Winter put his sunglasses into his pocket, walked straight up to the table, and took a seat beside Kurt Klein. The security man looked across Klein to stare at Winter.
“My name is Winter Massey,” he said.
Casually, Klein said, “I’m Kurt Klein. Nice to meet you.”
Klein placed a bet, looked at Winter for the first time, and smiled. He slid a stack of chips from his pile to rest in front of Winter. “Something to keep your hands busy?”
Winter pushed them back. “I’m not much with cards.”
The security man beside Klein nodded almost imperceptibly.
“This is Steffan Finch,” Klein said. “He works for me.”
Winter looked around and saw the two other security men who had arrived with Klein move forward, their hands behind their backs.
“I’m not armed,” Winter said, slowly drawing back his jacket so Finch could see the empty high-rise holster on his belt.
Kurt Klein won with a pair of kings. The dealer had jack high.
“Do you believe in luck?” he asked Winter.
“Sometimes luck is better than skill,” he answered. “It’s just not very dependable.”
“I never depend on luck,” Kurt Klein said, raking in the chips he’d won. “I bet you are more skilled than lucky yourself.”
Winter shrugged. “I’m careful when I can be.”
“So, Mr. Massey,” Kurt said. “Are you here because you want to test your luck?” He placed four chips in front of Winter. “Play a hand with me.”
Winter placed the chips Klein had given him into the bet box, and Klein made a large bet. They watched the dealer toss out the cards.
“I guess I’m all in,” Winter said.
Klein chuckled. “That appears to be the case.”
Winter had nothing, Klein had a pair, and the dealer a king high hand.
The dealer stacked black and yellow chips in front of Klein.
“Luck doesn’t seem to be on your side,” Klein said.
“Not with cards. Is there a place we can talk in private?”
“Let’s go upstairs,” Klein said, tipping the dealer a pair of black and yellow chips. A man dressed in an official Roundtable jacket and red tie picked up Klein’s winnings, stacked them onto a tray, and walked off.
“Accompany me to the elevator,” Kurt Klein said, standing. Winter stood and walked beside Klein.
Finch led the way, the two arm-breakers trailing behind him.
85
“ So,” Leigh Said, “if This Specific Individual didn’t have Cynthia, what would you be doing differently?”
“Every case is different,” Alexa said.
Leigh’s voice cracked with emotion as she spoke. “You must think I’m a terrible mother. Sherry just murdered and I let my daughter leave the house alone.”
“Beating yourself up is a normal reaction, but you didn’t know what was going on then,” Alexa told her. “She’s going to be fine.”
“I always let her do what she wants to do. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“Is that your personal or professional opinion?”
“Both.”
“I know what you people think. If she’s dead, she’s dead. If she isn’t, she probably won’t be killed.”
“I didn’t say that,” Alexa said.
“Winter believes it. You’re saying you don’t think that’s the case?”
“Winter knows this man who has your daughter as well as anyone does.”
“The man is a professional murderer.”
“Yes, he is. But he doesn’t kill unless it works to his advantage. We should talk about something else.”
Leigh looked at the fire in the hearth. “How in God’s name can I talk about anything else? I can’t think of anything but Cynthia.”
“Please, try.”
“You and Winter both grew up in Cleveland.”
“We met in high school.”
“You were good friends?”
“We were best friends. I’ve never had a friend that came close to him.”
“Not more than friends?”
“Never lovers, if that’s what you mean. I was an outsider-a misfit. My parents were drug addicts. My sister and I were split up in foster care. Winter came along at a crucial time in my life, and he reached out to me. He saved my life. He lost friends over it and didn’t care at all. We had a lot in common. He married my best friend and roommate from college.” Alexa laughed. “I was his best man and her maid of honor.”
“Brad says he is very good at what he does.”
“He’s awesome at what he does. His instincts are truly amazing. He is one of the few people on earth I trust completely.” Leigh nodded, and there was a silence, after which Alexa said, “I understand you and Brad went together.”
Leigh’s eyes lit up. “We were engaged. We almost got married.”
“Tell me about it.”
Fifteen minutes later, as Leigh was smiling at Alexa
with tears in her eyes, Brad came into the room.
“We were talking about high school,” Alexa said, grinning at Leigh, who blushed.
“That was a long time ago,” he said. “Winter called. He’s gone to talk to Klein at the casino. He’s taking a copy of the papers Billy filed.”
“Alone?” Alexa said.
“Yeah. He had Billy drop him off at his Jeep.”
Alexa swore under her breath. “Leigh, can I take your truck?”
“Sure. Key’s hanging by the back door.”
Alexa got into Leigh’s truck and struck out for the casino, passing three parked cruisers whose deputies, armed with AR-15s and shotguns, were guarding the road leading into the plantation.
Alexa couldn’t believe Brad had let Winter go out to the casino without backup of any kind. Mulvane could react violently if he thought Winter was going to bring his sinister actions to his boss’s attention. And if Klein was protected by his own security and the U.S. government, he could probably do whatever he pleased without worrying about repercussions or legal accountability. She knew Winter was not intimidated by these facts, at least not the way she would be. But frightened or not, she wasn’t about to let anything happen to Massey if she could help it.
It was dusk when Alexa pulled into a space in front of the Roundtable. Putting the purse’s strap over her shoulder, she strode toward the front doors. Walking purposefully through the casino, she caught sight of Winter, Klein, and three security people heading for the elevators. Moving quickly, she tried to intercept the group so Winter would see her, but they turned the corner before she caught up, and she didn’t think running or waving her arms in the air was a good idea. She saw Winter, under no apparent duress, step into an elevator cab with Klein. Klein dismissed the other two men, allowing only his personal security man to accompany them.
Alexa had some time to kill and remembered something she needed to take care of. She went to the hotel lobby and stopped at the house phones.
“Can you please connect me to Jason Parr’s room?” she asked the operator.
There was a momentary pause as the operator looked up the room number and handed her the receiver. It rang four times, after which the gambling pig farmer answered. “Parr here.”
“This is your old gambling partner.”
“Alexa?” he said, suddenly excited. “That really you?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I’m really glad you came by. After the dust settled I found out I shorted you by about nine grand,” he said. “I didn’t know how I’d ever find you.”
“Can you come down? I really can’t accept it.”
“I can’t at the moment. Could you come up? I’m on the eighth floor in suite eight-twenty-two. Unless you feel weird about coming to a stranger’s room…”
“Of course not. I’ll be right up.”
86
Cynthia Gardner was dressed in clean clothes, still bound, and lying on a king-sized bed, watching mesmerized as the man who’d kidnapped her peeled away in ragged pieces what she had believed until that instant was the actual skin on his very unattractive face. As he scrubbed the adhesive from his cheeks, he became another person entirely. He wasn’t bad looking, but he wasn’t male model material either. And thanks to the tight spandex underwear he had on, she could see that he was built like a gymnast. Sure, he was sort of old, but every muscle was as perfectly defined as anybody her age.
“Where’d you learn to do that?” she asked him.
“In school,” he said, frowning thoughtfully in the mirror at the sight of his irritated skin.
“Makeup one-oh-one?” she asked.
“Are you feeling one hundred percent yet?” he wanted to know.
“Yes. Thanks for the shot.” Asshole. I could have died. I almost did, I bet.
“Now you are completely out of insulin. So the timing was perfect. By the time you need another shot, you’ll be at home, safe and sound. You have some at home?”
“Yes, I do. You know, I really thought you were going to let me die,” she told him.
“Don’t be silly, Cynthia,” He turned to look at her, smiling. “Do I look like a murderer to you?”
“I’m not really sure what a murderer looks like.”
He said, “Let’s hope you don’t ever find that out.”
“So how long till I go home?”
“Tonight. Around nine.”
As Cynthia watched, the man reached into a cardboard box, lifted out a mannequin’s head, and placed it on the dressing table. All she could make out from the backside was a hairpiece. After applying adhesive from a bottle to a section of latex he’d removed from the head, he pasted the section on his own forehead, patting it down in places.
“So how long does this usually take you?”
“Takes as long as it takes. It’s the painting of the latex skin that takes the longest, and I do that first. This one took longer because of the amount of texture in the panels. It has to be accurate to hold up under close scrutiny. But it’s more than looking right. You have to have the subject’s movements down, and the voice pitch and patterns have to be perfect.”
“So who are you going to be when you finish?” she asked him.
“Well, little sister,” he said in a totally different voice, “just watch and you will see.”
87
Winter was impressed with the scale model of the resort in the large conference room on the executive floor. He and Klein were alone, his security man having thoroughly searched Massey.
“This is going to be the finest gaming resort ever built in the United States,” Kurt said, sweeping his hand over the model. “It will cost over a billion dollars. Mulvane brought the idea of this location to me, and after a lot of relentless persuasion, and seeing what he did with this casino, its potential became obvious. I would not be investing in it unless I was sure it would be profitable. I do not take chances when it comes to risking such sums.”
“I heard that when you borrow ten grand from a bank, repaying is your worry. But when you borrow millions, your repaying is the bank’s worry.”
Kurt smiled in agreement.
Winter picked up a small human figure from the model, then another, and another until he had five of them in his hands.
Winter said, “It appears that five people have been killed because of this investment.”
“You think so?” Klein said, seeming surprised. “I find that hard to believe. Are you sure?”
Winter reached out and laid the figures down, side by side, one at a time. “Sherry Adams, Jack Beals, Jacob Gardner…” He placed the other two male figures next to those. “I don’t know these men’s names, but them too.”
Kurt Klein crossed his arms and rested the fingers of his right hand under his chin.
“There is also the matter of Cynthia Gardner, who has been kidnapped by the person who killed these people.”
“The Gardner girl was kidnapped?” Klein said. The surprise in his eyes seemed genuine.
“It hasn’t been publicized and possibly won’t have to be, if she finds her way home.”
Winter didn’t know whether or not Klein knew about the deaths, or if he did, whether he cared one way or the other. Klein wasn’t the sort of man who gave anything away unless he chose to. At his level, like any major commanding officer far from the front, the realities of life or death struggles on the battlefield were just numbers, the bodies left in the ruins a million miles away.
“All of this has been the work of a top-notch professional killer,” Winter said.
“Does this killer have a name?”
“Paulus Styer,” Winter said, watching Klein’s face for a reaction, which came in the form of a brief tightening of his smile.
“And why is he killing and kidnapping people?” Kurt Klein asked.
“I think it has to do with a piece of land located within this model.” He gestured to a part of the model. “Six hundred and thirty-six acres owned by Leigh Gardner.”
&n
bsp; “I think you must be mistaken. I have been assured that all of the land necessary for the project has already been secured. Are you saying that I have been deceived in this matter?”
“I hope so. That would mean that you would pay a fair price for the land and also tell me that you weren’t part of a plan to have the Gardners killed so the land could be purchased from their relatives who might have been in line to inherit it.”
“I am fairly ruthless in the practice of business, but I do not hire killers, Mr. Massey.”
“It’s irrelevant now. Mrs. Gardner has fixed things so that if anything happens to her or her children, none of her relatives will inherit her holdings. In fact, if anything happens to any of the Gardners, it will be years, if ever, before anything is built on that parcel. That includes Cynthia Gardner. I think it would be mutually beneficial for you to pay Mrs. Gardner a fair price and sign the papers, which is as it should have been from the beginning-a perfectly clean and legal business matter.”
“Let’s move this discussion to my suite,” Klein said, nodding. “It will be more comfortable.” He picked up the five tiny figures and slipped them into his pocket before heading for the doorway.
Winter accepted a bottle of water from Steffan Finch, taking a seat across the coffee table from his host. He removed the copy of the legal document from his inside jacket pocket and slid it to Kurt Klein, who put on reading glasses, opened it, and read through the pages in silence.
“So in the event of her and her children’s deaths, Mrs. Gardner has willed her estate to the parents of Sherry Adams, who would be the young girl who was killed by this assassin you mentioned?”
“Yes,” Winter said. “They are corecipients along with their church congregation, the Advent Church of the Holy Spirit. I should mention that the group is unrepentantly anti-gaming. They will also be given a document that states Leigh Gardner’s strong suspicions that Sherry Adams was murdered in order to secure the land for a casino resort. And they all loved Sherry Adams.”
“If that document isn’t based on provable facts, it would be slander.”
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